


seven

by LoveMeDarling



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Azula (Avatar) Redemption, Gen, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Please just let the poor girl heal, Zuko is trying ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28559943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveMeDarling/pseuds/LoveMeDarling
Summary: Azula is seven when she first bends lightning.She is the youngest lightning bender in fire nation history.I did it, Father! Azula thinks, as she turns round to face him. The joy and pride that dares to escape dies in her throat the moment she meets his eyes.Ozai’s face is cold and impassive, “Your lightning is weak.” A heaviness sits and grows in Azula’s stomach. “You’ve missed your target.”*****Azula learns to heal, and Zuko learns patience.
Relationships: Azula & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 103





	1. (7)

_Breathe in. Breathe out. Focus._

_In._

_Out._

_In-_

Azula feels the energy surging, separating within her.

She punches out her right arm, her index and middle finger guiding the lightning out. A streak of blue shoots out, falls just short of striking the target dummy.

  
  


***

  
  


Azula is seven when she first bends lightning. 

On her eighth attempt, she finally succeeds. Eight attempts of lightning blowing up in her face. Eight attempts of potentially fatal injury. Eight attempts of failure and frustration. 

She is the youngest lightning bender in fire nation history.

Her father is informed and Li and Lo requests his audience in the training grounds. It takes three days before he graces Azula with his presence.

  
  


***

  
  


_I did it, Father!_ Azula thinks, as she turns round to face him. The joy and pride that dares to escape dies in her throat the moment she meets his eyes.

Ozai’s face is cold and impassive, “Your lightning is weak.” A heaviness sits and grows in Azula’s stomach. “You’ve missed your target.”

Azula is seven. Too young to fully control her emotions, too young to perfect her mask (which she masters at nine). She feels her bottom lip tremble. It trembles, pathetic, weak _just like me ._

“How disappointing,” Ozai sneers, “I expected better from you.” 

  
  


***

  
  


Azula stays in the training grounds until long after dusk. Long after Ozai departed, leaving nothing but disappointment.

She is _exhausted_ , sweat drips from her, her hair has fallen out of its perfect styling, her chest is heaving, she is panting, desperate for air ( _for approval)._

She had practiced kata after kata. Blasted out flame after flame. Bolt after bolt had crackled through the air. Until there was nothing left, just a small - 

_weak_

_disappointing_

\- sizzle of static.

  
  


Light footsteps run towards her. 

A child.

Zuko.

Azula looks up and under the moonlight, finds her older brother staring at her, something unreadable on his face,

“Li and Lo, they said…-” Zuko stops abruptly, eyes suddenly cast downwards.

“What dumb-dumb?” Azula crosses her arm, her eyes narrowing. _Is he... did he hear about what father said? Did he come to make fun of me? Laugh at me? How dare HE-_

“Can you really bend lightning?”

Azula’s anger suddenly simmers, as Zuko’s eyes snap up at her again. She allows herself to smirk.

“Well duh, Zuzu. Of course I can.” Something else to add on to the ever growing list of things Azula excels at, and Zuko absolutely does not. 

Zuko _knows_ she is setting an impossible benchmark that’s growing ever out of reach for him. He couldn’t lightning bend at seven, can only barely firebend now.

All the while Azula is racking up achievement after achievement, surpassing him in a way that he would never ever be able to catch up. 

A flurry of emotions passes her brother's face - surprise, shock, upset, fear and finally - _finally_ settles on something she had been looking for all along.

“That’s amazing Azula, I’m so proud of you.”

Azula _doesn’t_ blush. Refuses to let herself feel any of the pride and happiness that wants to bubble over.

A small voice inside her agrees with Zuko. She is seven. She’s done something that has never happened before. It _is_ amazing. Father _should_ be happy. But quickly, she squashes it down. She decides there and then if it isn’t good enough for her father, then it isn’t good enough for her.

Instead, she just scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“ _You_ would be, your bending is much worse than mine.” 

Zuko flinches in shock at her words, hurt all over his face. She walks away and swallows the bitter taste her words leave.

  
  


****

  
  


“Princess Azula!” It has been months since Azula has seen her uncle. Iroh had been travelling after the death of Lu Ten, and had written frequently to her mother and Zuko. He writes to Azula too but after the first letter, she didn’t bother to read them anymore.

He talked about the first port he arrived at. A small fire nation village, simple, humble and uncomplicated. Tells her how much he thinks Azula would enjoy playing with the children, spending the time swimming and on the beach. How much he misses her, her brother and mother.

All a waste of time.

“Uncle,” Azula bows, shallower than someone of Uncle’s station deserves. She rises and sees Ursa looking at her disapprovingly. “Have you put on weight?”

“Azula!” Ursa is quick to reprimand but Iroh only throws his head back and lets out a guffaw.

“Why yes I have, Princess Azula. My travels have been kind to me.” Iroh pats his stomach.

“So,” he continues, “what’s this I hear about you lightning bending! You should be so proud Azula. I’m so proud of you.”

His eyes twinkle at her, brimming with pride.

Azula swallows the urge to smile at him, to say thank you graciously and sincerely.

She briefly closes her eyes and recalls the way her father talks about uncle. _Mediocre, disappointing, useless, weak, failure._

“Of course _you_ would be impressed with something as easy as bending lightning,” Azula spits out viciously, “You couldn’t even take Ba Sing Se.”

Azula is sent to her room, and leaves another audience disappointed with her performance.


	2. 19

On the outskirts of Caldera City, flowers have started to blossom in a private courtyard. Birds have finally started to sing. The bleak silence and stillness of Winter is passing.

Zuko arrives outside the estate with his guards. Although the building appears grand to the few people that pass by; it is simple, humble, uncomplicated compared to the overbearing royal palace.

***

Azula had spent 5 years (and counting) in this home. Even during his busiest days, weeks, months, Zuko had always _always_ made sure he visited. Checked up on her. Gave her the patience that Ozai never did.

When Azula arrived here, she was bound, carried through the hallways, screaming manically at anyone that would listen to her.

“THAT THRONE IS MINE. THE FIRE NATION BELONGS TO ME.”

Zuko and Iroh merely looked on at her, heartbroken.

“TOO MUCH OF A COWARD TO KILL ME?” She had screamed on Zuko’s next visit, just a week later.

“I’ll burn you in your sleep,” she muttered quietly the week after.

During the fourth visit, she had been uncharacteristically silent. On the fifth, she was no longer tied up in chains when Zuko arrived.

“Princess Azula has lost her bending,” Yen, the head of staff, explained - head bowed respectfully.

“What- How?” Zuko asked in horror.

“We’re not sure, my lord. Azula managed to escape her chains whilst we were attending to her. When she tried to attack us, she wasn’t able to firebend. She did manage to attack in other ways though,” Yen rubbed absently at her arm, which Zuko just _knew_ had to be covered in bruises and scratches.

Zuko made sure Yen was handsomely compensated and that she took a month off with full pay. Firelord orders.

There were good days, and so _so_ many bad days. 

(Azula’s 16th birthday was the worst, she had just cried in a corner for her mother.)

When it was good, it was barely passable as good. When it was bad, there was no light at the end of the tunnel. Sobbing inconsolably, howling with rage. Wrath and fury and a deep, deep brokenness leaked from Azula’s every pore. It latched itself on to every surface, on to everyone.

Those were the darkest days. The days when Zuko wasn’t sure if he was strong enough. To support her, help her. He wonders if he is too much of Ozai’s son, too angry and resentful to be of any use. The days when his own bitter, self doubt creeps in like an old friend. 

Zuko still visits every week.

Very gradually, Zuko, Iroh and the kind staff picked up the pieces that Ozai had worn down over the years. They were very fragile pieces, quick to explode and shatter at any moment but it was slowly, achingly slowly, getting better.

(In the past year, Azula had started to respond with an acknowledgement whenever Zuko greeted her. Even if some visits did end up with her throwing furniture, teapots, pai sho tiles _whatever she can get her hands on_ at him.)

***

“I’ve brought you some fire gummies,” Zuko places a small plate of sweets onto the stone table. He had found Azula sitting in the courtyard by the turtleduck pond on this particular visit, enjoying the gentle breeze and comforting rays.

She looks disdainfully down at the plate of food, “I’m not a child.”

Zuko sighs and an uneasy silence descends upon them. It’s going to be one of those days.

“So, uh - I hear you’ve been painting?” Zuko thought this should be a neutral topic, easy.

“I needed to find something to do. You’ve been keeping me in this glorified prison for years.” Azula glares at him, “or do you prefer to call it your crazy sister’s home? Does that make you sleep better at night?”

“Azula!” Zuko snaps and immediately regrets it. He closes his eyes.

Breathe in, breathe out.

In.

Out.

In-

“I’ve got a gift for you.” He opens his eyes at the sound of her voice and sees Azula smirking at him. “I painted you a picture. Do you want to see?”

Zuko raises an eyebrow (his only eyebrow). There must be a catch somewhere. He sighs again, nevertheless- “I would love to see it.”

Azula sneers once more before she leaves their little table, and heads off towards the east wing.

Moments later, she returns.

Azula was not one to be bashful or self-conscious. She sits back down and confidently hands Zuko her scroll of parchment.

He pauses, unsure if he does actually want to see this. What if she had painted Ozai? Or their Agni Kai, or the lifeless body of Iroh... Or even worse - herself.

“Look at it.” 

Fighting back any sense of foreboding, Zuko quickly unfurls the scroll. He is speechless.

“Well? Do you like it?” Azula demands, she definitely doesn’t sound as if she cares. But the way her fists clench ever so slightly, and the slight tension that creeps into her posture says otherwise.

After a few beats, after Zuko’s body has caught up with his brain, after he has finally processed what he’s seeing, a deep belly laugh forces its way out. He’s staring at the painting and he can’t stop laughing. He’s not sure he could even stop it if he tried.

When it becomes too much and his eyes start to tear up and a stitch appears in his side, he still continues to laugh.

He’s not sure if he sounds slightly hysterical and he’s definitely not sure how long he’s been laughing for. 

Another light breeze passes through, Zuko’s laughter fades away and eventually, a sense of calm settles over him. 

The barbed and thorny atmosphere from before shifts. 

(A small beacon of hope blazes within. 

It had been ever present, never extinguished, never smothered. 

Burning and bright when he found out Azula could lightning bend at seven. It was fragile but present - stubborn, unyielding - even as Azula was dragged kicking and screaming at nineteen.

But for the first time in a long time, it feels _different._ )

  
  
  


He looks up at Azula, who was staring intently at him.

The painting, if you squint, could be of Zuko. If Zuko had sabretooth moose lion horns sticking out of his head, a serpent’s tongue, missing front teeth, his ridiculous ponytail and-

“My scar’s on the wrong side.”

“I know.” Azula smiles, all teeth and shark-like, but it reaches her eyes.

“Thank you, Azula. I love it…” Zuko beams at his sister, “this might be the best gift I’ve ever received. It’s amazing.

I’m so proud of this, of you.”

Azula’s breath hitches.

Finally, _finally,_ she smiles. Genuinely. Graciously. Sincerely.

(It’s soft and sweet, an odd familiarity she hasn’t felt since she was seven.)

“Thank you.”

  
  


***

  
  


As is tradition, portraits of every Firelord hang in the hallways of Caldera City’s Royal Palace. 

The subjects are strong, powerful, poised - descendents of Agni.

Azula’s painting hangs in the palace hallway, under Zuko’s official Firelord portrait.


End file.
